


When The Tears Will Never Subside

by Lexa_Foxly



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Eliot Learns of Q’s death, Eliot and Quentin are dating already here, F/F, F/M, Happy ending sorta, I Blame Tumblr, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, Reunion, Some of this broke my heart, Why Did I Write This?, it’s not pretty, temporary canon death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:21:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29769222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexa_Foxly/pseuds/Lexa_Foxly
Summary: “To Quentin Coldwater before he enters the seam, Listen here and listen good Coldwater, the difference between a live hero and a dead moron is one dumb decision. So know which one. I will never get Eliot’s sobs out of my head after I told him that you died- never.“
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	When The Tears Will Never Subside

**Author's Note:**

> This was painful to write and not my best work but I kinda loved it so I had to share!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know if it’s worth the share! Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day loves! ❤️

Eliot’s brain was lagging considerably and his words seemed to be failing him at that moment but he was aware enough to feel seering pain. He was awake enough to see Margo at his bedside, his hand resting between hers and tear tracks cutting through the dirt on her cheeks. 

She was a mess but then again after everything they’d been through it was understandable. 

When she finally noticed his eyes open, clouded and fuzzy but awake, she sniffled and squeezed his hand- pressing a kiss against his knuckles “El-“

“B-ambi-“ his words where soft but strained, cracking from disuse. He tried for a smile, something to assure her he was okay but she gasped softly- holding in a laugh that shook her frame. He felt immensely proud at that reaction. 

“If you ever scare me like this again I will cut your balls off Eliot Waugh,” she threatened playfully- for a moment her sadness was gone but he witnessed it come back, watched as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat and inched closer “El-“ her voice dropped low, serious and dread began to fill his stomach. 

It was then he decided to search out his friends- eyes landing on Julia a couple of beds down, her face buried in 23’s shoulder and her body wrecked with quiet sobs. His gaze moving to Alice in a seat against the wall by the infirmary doors- her eyes much like Bambi’s, red and filled with tears. Kady at her side rubbing her back in soothing circles. 

He felt his panic spike, he made to sit up- his instincts telling him to find Quentin- find him. He had to see him, why wasn’t he here? But his movements alerted Margo- she was quick to push him down, fluffing his pillows for him as her eyes rapidly filled with unshed tears and she took a deep harsh breath, deciding that she should stop trying to avoid whatever it is she was about to say. Her mind seemed to be working just as a fast as his “you’re still healing,” she corrected him- smoothing her hand over his bandaged shoulder “no moving or-“

“Where’s Quentin?” His voice was louder then it had been, scratched and desperate as he looked at her with what he knew was hope. 

Quentin’s name had an effect, Julia’s sobs grew louder- Alice gasped raggedly and touched her chest like she couldn’t breath. Margo flinched, her emotions laid bare on her sleeves like they’d never been before. 

“Eliot,” Margo started softly- voice tilting into oblivion- a darkness surrounding him before he even heard what she had to say because he knew- he felt it- a piece of his heart was gone, a Q shaped hole in his chest and pain that had nothing to do with the axe wound in his shoulder. 

She was talking still, he caught words here and there but other then that his ears where full of ringing. Her voice drowned out by his barrage of emotions. 

Dead, dead, dead- was playing like a sick mantra in his head, the words ripping his soul to shreds Q’s dead, he’s gone. 

When he looked back on finding out later in the night, he wouldn’t remember a lot- Margo would fill him in. 

“You cried,” she’d say weakly “I tried to comfort you but I don’t think Ive ever seen you that- that....broken. You tried to rip the IV out El, Lipson had to sedate you.” 

All he could feel was devastation, a deep and dark monster rearing its ugly head in the battle field of his mind and a strong urge for air- he needed air-

Q would never need air again-

Eliot would never see him again, would never get to tell him he loved him again- he’d never get to see Q sprawled out in their bed with a bratty smirk on his perfect fucking face again. 

His boyfriend was gone- and Eliot’s heart had gone with him.

—————————

The weeks following where dark and rainy, he remembered laying in the infirmary bed and staring out at the rain as it hit the ground. It was strange, how the weather seemed to match his mood considering Fog controlled the barriers around the school, he choose when it rained. 

Maybe, in some weird way he’d done this for them- showed them that he was grieving too.

Julia was released before him but she visited- they all did aside from Alice. He was grateful for that. They’d never really gotten along and he knew she was still bitter that Q had chosen him. At the time, he’d been just as surprised as her but secretly relieved as well. 

Margo was the one who showed up the most, always bringing him food she knew Lipson had forbidden in the Infirmary wing. He tried to pick at it, he really had. But every time more of it was thrown away then eaten. 

He wasn’t proud of it but if he heard them early enough he pretended to be asleep so they’d leave. He couldn’t stand their pity stares and soft ‘I’m sorry’s,’ as if they had anything to do with it. 

He loved them all for caring but his heart was shattered and their sorrys weren’t going to bring his boyfriend back.

When they left or on the rare days no one came he’d close his eyes and remember him-

Quentin laying on his back against the tiles- the moonlight shining in his eyes and their son asleep in the hammock a few feet away. 

Quentin spread out beneath him, needy and happy- laughing with him as they had casual sex. The one type of sex that El hadn’t known he’d wanted until Q. 

Small smiles tossed at Eliot, heated gazes after a little too much whine, Q’s hands carding through his hair as they fell asleep.

The sneaky smiles after they’d gotten back from the mosaic- when no one knew they’d gotten together yet. 

It was like a crappy montage in his head but it left his heart twisting against his chest and he had to fight to take any sort of breath. 

He knew it was going to be a bad day when he woke up with Quentin’s name on his tongue and a bone weary exhaustion- a want to stop fighting buried deep in his soul.

—————————

The nightmares where bad, in the infirmary he’d wake up gasping and have to calm himself down- in the cottage Margo was there- grabbing his face and slapping a messy kiss against his cheeks after he’d calmed down “it’s okay El,” she’d say softly- carding her fingers through his hair “I’m here.” 

He’d cry into her shoulder for a good thirty minutes before forcing himself to try to sleep again.

His dreams weren’t always the same, they changed. In some he saw Quentin- impossibly pale and mirror esque with cracks covering his skin and blood dripping from them. As if someone had tried to put him back together- his face always a grimace of pain. 

He dreamt of sitting with him, their hands clasped over the table of whatever shitty diner they where in but when he’d get up to get something- a spoon or napkin, Q would disappear and he’d panic. 

The worst nightmare he’d had- he’d been sitting at a grave, a clean marble stone with Quentin Coldwater-Waugh etched into it. A Fillory book resting on top of it. And Teddy sitting on the freshly raised dirt, about four, with tears in his eyes and a basket of peaches and plums resting next to his knees. 

He’d sniffle and pick up two- resting them at the base of the stone “we picked these for you,” he’d say- reaching back to grab at Eliot’s hand and looking up at him with watery eyes “when are we going to see him again?” 

Eliot’s heart broke all over again and he woke up gasping for air- his tears uncontrollable and nothing could calm him down expect for time. 

—————————

Six Months Later 

Life had moved on, despite Eliot’s reluctance to let it. He got himself a little apartment in the city- a job at Brakebills and a small wiener dog named Cora. Margo went back to Fillory to discover the death of Fen and Josh- she’d come home after and cried into his shoulder before declaring it wrong and leaving again to bring them back.

Julia and 23 got married- no ceremony, they showed up at his apartment with a marriage certificate and asked if he’d be there witness. Why the hell not? At the courthouse, he found out about Julia’s pregnancy and congratulated her accordingly. 

Everyone around him kept moving, kept turning and he- he was stuck trying to figure out how the hell he was suppose to keep going when his heart was constantly being squeezed and twisted. A constant pain, a pain that got worse and worse as time passed. 

For a moment every morning he was free of it, for a moment he could imagine Q was next to him in bed and that it hadn’t happened and then reality would hit him and crush the air out of his lungs. 

So he’d drag himself out of bed, take a shower, and get dressed for work before downing a cup off coffee and picking up an energy drink from the little gas station down the road. He never slept well anymore, so he had to take steps to stay awake at work. After he got off, he’d harass Dean Fogg in a decidedly playful manner- sneer at Todd and then go home to pass out and repeat the process over again the next morning. 

For someone who’d had a reputation for partying, Eliot had become the new home before 4 guy. If he really felt it, he’d have a glass of wine with his supper. 

He was just thankful Margo was in Fillory and not on Earth, she’d scream if she saw him lounging in his favorite pair of sweats and one of Q’s old nerd shirts resting in his lap as he watched TV. He couldn’t wear them so he’d taken to holding it, petting the fabric and talking too the air as if he was still there. 

If he had a cat he could be a crazy cat person. 

He didn’t really have visitors, Julia would come and rip him from his apartment to go clubbing at least once a month. She hated the noise but she was worried about him and he couldn’t tell her no when he knew she was just trying to keep an eye on him but other then that, the only other person to drop by was Margo and it was barely ever. And she definitely didn’t knock, she’d actually picked his lock once while he was grocery shopping. He’d come home and found her asleep on his couch with a dagger clutched in her left hand and a fresh cut on her cheek.

He’d had to pry the weapon from her hand and set it on the coffee table before covering her with a blanket and pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

So the knocking on his door was surprising and unwelcome, Julia usually texted first and Bambi would have walked straight in. And yet as he stood up, setting his wine glass on the coffee table and pausing ‘Cursed’ the knocking became louder and more frantic. 

When he did finally manage to reach the door his stomach dropped and a whimper escaped him because nothing could have prepared him for the person on the other side of that damn door- 

Quentin, covered in dirt and dried blood, his breath coming in sharp exhales and shakey inhales. Confusion and curiosity leaking off of him in waves “Margo did something crazy-“ he breathed out, his voice the same although soft and unused.

He moved his hand, the paper in it finally catching his vision as Q held it up for him too read:

“To Quentin Coldwater before he enters the Seam,” was written at the top in Margo’s elegant cursive and his breath stuttered in his chest as he took the letter with shaking hands.

“Listen here and listen good Coldwater, the difference between a live hero and a dead moron is one dumb decision. So know which one. I will never get Eliot’s sobs out of my head after I told him that you died- never. The head dick librarian is going to follow you into the mirror realm- and you’ve probably already picked up on this but surprise, you die in there. So fix it, I don’t know if this letter will work but when I found the enchanted stamps, I knew I had to send you one. Not just for Eliot but for all of us. I have three of these but one I used up and the other one is for Josh and Fen- because apparently when El and I fall in love, fate likes to fuck us, not the fun way either. This is the only letter you’re getting Coldwater but it won’t be my last attempt to save you. Because I need you to Ovary up bitch, if you don’t fix this shit hole you’ve created I’m going to find a way to bring you back just so I CAN KICK YOUR ASS!”

“Eliot-“ Quentin’s voice was suddenly full of concern, not even focusing on the hands suddenly roaming his body or the fact that he’d been unable to form words as he surged forward to hug his boyfriend “are you wearing sweats?” 

He laughed weakly against Quentin’s shoulder, grip tightening. They had a lot to figure out- where he’d been if he didn’t die six months ago- why time hadn’t gone back and fixed itself- what had happened in the mirror world. 

But he found himself not caring, his boyfriend was hugging him, alive and solid in his arms and at that moment- he wanted to hold him and never let him go.

Later he’d call the group, he’d kiss Margo passionately and promise her the world but for now-

For now his only focus was Quentin Coldwater


End file.
